


Clinical Attachment

by TheAfterglow



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Horror, Dog Vader, Dr Ren will see you now, F/M, First Dates, Masturbation, Physical Therapy, oops now fluffy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-09-20 06:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAfterglow/pseuds/TheAfterglow
Summary: Rey is tough, and she is lucky, but just after midterms in the fall semester of her senior year, she falls sick with a cough.





	1. Chapter 1

Rey is tough, and she is lucky, but just after midterms in the fall semester of her senior year, she falls sick with a cough.

It nags her: first a tickle at the back of her throat that forces her to leave class when she has to cough convulsively to rid herself of it, spasms wracking her body and eyes welling with tears as she tries to calm her breathing in the women’s room down the hall from her lecture.

A week later, she’s bedridden with a slight fever and the annoying cough deepens, moving into her lungs and causing an ache in her chest. Her roommates bring her food and mostly leave her in peace, not wanting to catch whatever it is she has.  

Two weeks and the fever has lifted and she’s back to class, but her classmates still fold themselves away from her and give disdainful looks when she interrupts class for the millionth time to go cough in private when she can’t hold the sensation in any longer. Professor Dameron looks both annoyed and sympathetic when he pauses in describing the effects of the second world war on the literary community in America as she shuffles out of the classroom once more.

It’s been three weeks and Thanksgiving is already on the horizon when Jess and Finn stage an intervention and demand she see the university clinicians. The health center’s _not that bad_ , they plead, she’s been coughing for weeks and it’s getting _kinda gross_ , plus what if it’s _not just a cold_. She’s taken all the OTC meds they can bring her, and _nothing’s helping_. Rey protests about time, then about money, but boy, her roommates have prepared and are ready for every roadblock she can think to throw up.

They will drive her if need be. Everyone’s busy. There’s the petty cash box. The clinic is free for students anyway. Her health is important.  

Her mood is glum when she finally calls the clinic and the chirpy receptionist confirms yes, they can see her this afternoon.

Dr. Holdo is a calm, slender woman with very cold hands but a warm aura around her, the kind of person Rey expects a psychiatrist to be. Someone who has overgrown tropical plants in the windowsill and a bookshelf of faded medical manuals from school and throw pillows on the couch in their office. She examines Rey with a half-smile quirking the edge of her mouth as Rey details her symptoms.

“I’d like to do a chest x-ray,” Dr. Holdo cuts in gently. “I suspect you have walking pneumonia, and that’s the only way to be sure.”

Rey freezes at the suggestion. Aren’t x-rays… expensive?

Holdo talks her down and twenty minutes later she’s in the basement radiology lab, cocooned under a warm layer of lead encased in vinyl and she almost drifts off to sleep with relief at the cozy weight until another coughing fit wracks her. The tech is clearly annoyed but patiently repositions her after it subsides, telling her needlessly to hold still so the image comes out clear.

Dr. Holdo calls her later: it’s positive, and there’s a script waiting at the pharmacy for a general antibiotic that should clear things up.

“Please let me know if it doesn’t help,” she repeats. “We’re here for you, okay?”

Rey takes the course of drugs and little by little, her cough lessens. It still plagues her, though, and she’s getting thin from lack of exercise. She’s never felt so weak, so useless without her kickboxing and zumba and free weights classes to perk her up, but her energy is at an all-time low. Most nights she can barely make it through dinner and her assignments before falling into an exhausted sleep punctuated by her stupid cough.  

It’s been nearly six weeks since the onset when it first happens.

She’s sitting in class and, determined not to leave when a particularly vicious tickle creeps up the back of her throat, she tries to cough silently into the tissue she keeps wadded up in her pocket.

There’s a spurt of warmth between her legs and then, a telltale wetness as the liquid cools in her jeans.

For a second she thinks it’s her period come early but then, she realizes.

She… peed a little.

Rey flushes a shade of red that feels like she just ran a marathon and she spends the rest of the class crossing her legs and wiggling around, trying to assess how bad it is before grabbing her bag and bolting down the hallway to the restroom the second the professor nods their dismissal.

Okay, it’s not _as bad_ as she pictured during the forty minutes she spent freaking out, but it’s definitely _not good,_  right? That’s never happened to her before.

A few days later she wakes and her pajama bottoms are wet again. Her cough is subsiding but she must’ve had an episode in the night, hard enough to cause this but not enough to wake her.

She’s starting to wear pads all the time, just in case, when she mentions it offhandedly to Jess.

“For fuck’s sake, Rey!” Jess exclaims, her face a mask of perfect horror. “Go back to the doctor! That’s not normal!!”

She can’t bring herself to go in again but emails Dr. Holdo a terse follow-up.

The reply comes only a few hours later and is worded in such a way that Rey can’t tell if Holdo actually wrote it herself or if a well-meaning assistant put it together from stock replies.

_Hello Rey,_

_Thanks for contacting us, and I’m sorry to hear about this further complication. We sometimes see this in cases where a patient has been sick for a long time with a cough. It’s very hard on our bodies, especially as women!_

_I’m giving you a referral for physical therapy. Please call the number below to make an appointment, and see me in six weeks for a follow-up if things don’t improve. Happy Thanksgiving!_

_Kindly,_

_Amilyn Holdo, MD_

The number is for a different unit in the university health clinic and Rey puts off calling until it’s happened another three times in public and she’s basically given up on ever being normal again.

“Hmmmm.” This receptionist is much less friendly than the one on the general line. “Well, there’s not much availability because of the holiday, but Dr. Ren could see you next Tuesday afternoon at four PM. Can you make it?”

Yes, yes she can; it’s the last day of classes before the holiday but she’s not going anywhere, is she.

The intervening week does nothing to calm the nerves she feels about returning to the clinic, this time to the fourth floor. She doesn’t get up the guts to look up this Dr. Ren in the online directory. She’s never heard that last name before, but then, she’s never heard lots of last names.

By the time she’s sitting in the freezing exam room and the medical assistant has taken her height and weight and heard her general complaints, she pictures a practical, diminutive but sturdy sort of woman who will somehow whip her back into shape. Perhaps Ren is an Americanized shortening of an unpronounceable long name, Renekslavskaia or Rendorowski or Renthamamnaman--

“Okay.” The assistant closes her chart with a mouseclick. “Go ahead and take off your bottoms and put the drape over your legs. Dr. Ren’s just finishing up with another patient and he’ll be in shortly.”

Rey stares at the young woman.

“My bottoms?” Her voice is a squeak. Also-- Dr. Ren is a he?

The assistant pauses for a second as though confused.

“Oh,” she sounds surprised. “Right, so, Dr. Holdo recommended a possible course of pelvic floor therapy. The initial consult today is an exam to assess where you’re at, and the doctor may prescribe exercises from there. Sound good?”

Pelvic floor therapy?

No, nope, that does not sound good and Rey can feel her face flaming but she strips obediently of her jeans and embarrassing ratty floral underwear, tucking them underneath her pants where Dr. Ren Who Is Apparently A Man can’t see them, and perches on the cold paper-wrapped table once more with the scratchy green poly-blend drape over her bare legs.

She tries to calm her breathing as she takes in this exam room, decorated not with pictures of athletes like the waiting area or the gym they walked through to get here, but with framed black-and-white geometric prints. They’re pleasing to look at yet puzzling because they give no sense of the person who works here. She’s been to the gyno plenty of times but it’s hardly something she looks forwards to, and besides, she’s always seen women doctors.

Rey realizes she’s unconsciously doing Kegels, as if three minutes of clenching could undo the last six weeks of injury and she wouldn’t have to go through whatever is about to happen to her, when a sharp rap on the door causes her to start.

“Come in,” she calls and cringes to hear how weird and high-pitched her voice sounds.

This Dr. Ren is not what she expected.

For starters, he’s... young. He’s also quite tall, a hulking sort of man who hunches slightly as though he’s afraid to startle people around him by drawing himself up to his full height.  

He’s clad in black scrubs and hip-looking trainers and while it’s not long enough for a ponytail, his hair is definitely longer than what Rey imagines regulation to be for medical professionals.

“Hey there,” he says without really looking at her and plops onto the rolling stool to bring up her chart. “I’m Dr. Ren, but call me Kylo. Rey--am I saying your name right?”

She just stares at him and it’s an uncomfortably long pause before he glances up and she realizes he’s waiting on her.

“Yup, that’s me-- Rey, like a ray of light,” she croaks and immediately hates herself. It sounds totally stupid.

“Cool,” he nods, peering at her history. “You’re a student?”

“Uh huh. Engineering.”

“Good. Stay in school.”

Just as she’s about to reply, a tickle licks up her tonsils and she coughs, a particularly vicious bout that has Dr. Ren eyeing her warily and offering the box of generic Kleenex.

“How long’s that been going on?”

He asks while he’s turned away at the sink lathering his hands and Rey dabs at the tears that have formed in her eyes as she notices how broad his shoulders look from behind. The coarse material of the scrubs is stretching across them and she can see the outline of his shoulder blades. The arm of his top hikes up a little with his movement and she’s surprised to see a tattoo peeking out on his bicep. She can only see a bit of it, but it looks relatively recent-- not all blurry like on an old man’s arm-- and like some kind of cool modern-style design.   

“Since midterms,” she admits. “I thought it would get better, but then this started.”

He shuts off the tap with an elbow before answering.

“It’s not uncommon,” he assures her. “Incontinence after a long illness, surgery, childbirth-- it happens more frequently than you might guess. Good news is, you’re young, you’re going to heal, and you just need to get back in shape.”

He says this with a clinical detachment that should make her feel better, but a nervous sensation has gripped her middle and she catches herself breathing quick little puffs that don’t move her belly.

“You do your annual well-woman appointments, right?” He hunts around in the cabinet above the sink and Rey notices he pulls rubber gloves from a box marked XL. The gloves go on with a snap and the rubber strains over his knuckles and her heart stutters.

She nods, mute. She knows what’s going to happen, and oh God, she was not prepared for this today. Why didn’t she look into this more before making the appointment? She would’ve shaved or used Nair or taken part of one of Finn’s edibles or _something_. She hasn’t been to a party or hooked up in ages and she’d be the first to admit she’s kind of let herself go.

“Well, this won’t be as bad as that.” Dr. Ren promises. “Go ahead and lie back for me. Yup-- there you go, scoot your hips down just a touch. Great! I’m just going to do a manual exam, then we’ll do some strength testing, and we’ll go from there, okay?”

Rey presses her lips between her teeth, stares up at the ceiling tiles and her stomach flutters when she notices he’s not seated between her legs. He’s standing over her, between her knees in the stirrups and while he’s not looking directly at her, she can tell he’s watching her reaction.

“Take a deep breath for me, Rey. You’re going to feel a little bit of cold, then my fingers.”

She holds her breath because yes, she feels it alright. The petroleum gel is cold but his finger is not and he’s pushing it inside her before she has any time to steel herself.

Oh, make that his _fingers_ \-- a second one now and she’s biting her lip because she’s deathly afraid she might cough again and pee on him by accident, this hulking, tattooed man who is pressing his XL-sized _fingers_ into her. She wants to make a joke, _buy a girl a drink first_ , but she’s frozen as he uses his other hand to press down on her womb and manipulate her lower stomach.

The pain she was bracing for isn’t there and she relaxes a notch. He’s still not really looking at her when he says, “Try to breath normally for me.”

She exhales a gust and tries to obey without thinking too hard about how awkward this is.

“Now, try to push my fingers out.”

“Um,” she hesitates, trying to make her nethers work in a way she’s never thought to do on command, let alone when she’s full of someone’s fingers. He’s pressing into her steadily and she doesn’t manage it.  

“Alright, that’s fine,” he mutters, and his fingers withdraw suddenly. “Sit up for me.”

“Will I live, doc?” She tries this with a half-smile.

He rearranges the drape over her legs once more and he’s leaning in close enough she can smell him. According to the signs in the clinic waiting room, cologne and perfume are forbidden, but maybe it’s his deodorant or an aftershave?

“Stick with me, kid, and you might,” he jokes back and she smiles now, a real smile as she catches his eyes.

He’s standing with his hands on her knees and her stomach flip-flops when he doesn’t look away immediately.

He has kind-looking eyes, she notices.

“Go ahead and lift your knees for me,” he orders, looking away again. “I’m going to press down on your legs, try to resist against me.”

Without her gym classes to keep her in shape, Rey’s stomach has gone so weak he’s able to push her knees back to the table without almost any effort. He cups her knees from underneath and tells her to do the same, but in reverse. Somehow this direction is slightly better, and she can see his biceps flex resisting her.

“Good,” he pats her knee before sinking back onto the stool once again. “See, you lived! Alright, put your pants back on and meet me outside. We’ll go through some exercises I want you to do at home.” He says this as he’s typing rapidly and squinting at her chart.

“How bad am I?” She can’t resist asking, even though she’s not sure she wants to hear the answer.

“Incurable,” he says matter-of-factly and her heart skips for a moment before she sees the way the corner of his mouth twitches. “We may have to operate.”

She ventures a smile again and he breaks.  A smile crinkles his long face in a way that she doesn’t find unpleasant.  

The rest of the appointment is a blur of him showing her how to do her homework out in the adjacent gym room, these weird bridges and squeezing a ball between her knees and a modified set of Kegels.

“I can’t exactly demonstrate this one for you,” he winks as he describes it and shows her an anatomical diagram of the muscles it’s supposed to be working.

She blushes even as she thinks, _he probably says that to all his patients_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sort of thing really did happen to an acquaintance of mine, a young, healthy person in her late 20s. So that's my PSA. :) 
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr if you're still on there (@theafterglow-writes) but I've moved my fannish blog to WordPress, if you're on there: [The Afterglow Writes](http://theafterglowwrites.home.blog).


	2. Chapter 2

Later that evening, Jess is relentless with her questions about the appointment and they leave Finn glued to the millionth season of  _ Say Yes to the Dress _ to hide in Rey’s room. 

Jess’s eyes are practically in her hairline and to Rey’s undying horror, she flops over on the bed with Rey’s pillow over her face as she laughs until she cries.

When she finally comes up for air, she swears, “I’m  _ never _ having children if that’s what can happen to you from it. No way!”

Rey shrugs and goes to the floor to start her exercises. Jess finally quiets down enough that Rey can hear the tv out in the living room again before asking the inevitable question.

“So the doctor was...?”

Rey shrugs, or shrugs as much as she can with her shoulders shoved into the floor by her awkward bridge exercise.

“He wasn’t what I expected,” Rey hedges. “A lot younger. And a man. That’s all. I’ve never seen a male doctor for… that.”

Jess’s expression is unreadable, and she finally leaves Rey to work on herself in peace.

The exercises are boring and repetitive, but Rey can’t deny she feels tired afterwards and lays sprawled on her bedroom floor. She was the youngest person in the group therapy room today besides Dr. R-- _ Kylo _ , and while she still feels silly at needing therapy at all, she can admit it feels good to know what’s wrong with her. She’s not a lost cause.

And she got through it. Yes, it was awkward, but she lived. She's likely not the worst patient he's ever seen, not by a long shot.

Somehow this is a comfort even as another coughing fit overtakes her again and she sits up to grab a tissue.

The next morning Rey awakens face down with her head under her pillow and groans as she rolls over. Her hips and lower back ache from her exercises and she can't believe she's supposed to do them every day until her follow-up in ten days. Surely Thanksgiving is an exception, right? All she plans to do is lie on the couch and watch reruns and enjoy the silence with her roommates gone to their families.

She lingers in the shower, letting the water beat her sore muscles into something resembling comfort. It's then she remembers the other exercises she was prescribed.

“It's important to relax fully between each set,” Kylo had told her. “Our muscles hold tension even when we're not using them, right? We need to train your body to be comfortable both at work and at rest.”

Rey feels downright embarrassed to be thinking of him now as she's standing naked in the shower with her hand cupped between her legs, trying to feel the difference when she clenches and relaxes, timing her movements with her breathing.

“Make sure you keep breathing as you're working on this one. We can't have you passing out.”

He’d winked at her again then, his brown eyes soft. She noticed they were a light brown flecked with tiny dots of green, and she wonders idly if he called them brown or hazel. He probably has some girlfriend, a very pretty, petite, sporty girlfriend who goes for runs with him in the park before it gets crowded, someone who doesn’t sweat too much or go bright red in the face the way she does when she exercises. The kind of woman every parent hopes their son will make grandbabies with, one who runs races with their kid in a stroller and tells everyone how she’s still  _ getting back into shape _ even though she already looks perfect in her skin-tight running clothes.

Rey realizes she’s holding her breath at these thoughts and stops what she’s doing. Jesus, what does  _ that _ matter? He’s her  _ doctor _ .

She shakes her head at herself and turns off the tap, reaching for her fraying towel around the edge of the curtain.  

It takes a few days for the annoying soreness to subside, but Rey notices a difference in her body almost immediately. She still coughs, but she’s ready to punch air in triumph when she manages to keep from peeing at the mall after a coughing fit wracks her. Passersby stop and ask her if she’s okay and she waves them off with a stupid grin plastered on her face. These people have no idea how delightful this small triumph is.

Three days after that, she’s ready to brave Zumba again and although she takes it easy, she’s elated to be around her class friends once more. They missed her, she missed them, she missed sweating for an hour straight.

She flies too close to the sun with kickboxing the next day, though, and the setback has her furiously doing a double set of exercises on her bedroom floor.

The day of her follow-up appointment in early December dawns frigid and overcast, so while she bundles up against the cold, she takes care to wear better underwear and her cutest workout gear this time. She knows the drill now, and she’s ready.

And if she bothers to put on mascara and a bit of lip gloss--well, that’s because she’s finally feeling better and is taking care of herself. It has nothing to do with Dr. Ren’s nice-looking eyes and extra-large hands.

“You look good, Rey!” Kylo exclaims when she takes off her coat to hang it up in the gym area. “How’re you feeling?”

She tells herself not to read anything into his compliment and to be modest in her assessment of her progress.

“A little better,” she says. “What are we doing today?”

“Let’s see your bridges,” Kylo gestures to the mat in front of the mirror. “Then I may have some additional exercises for you.”

Rey hopes she’s hiding her weird disappointment that she doesn’t need an exam as she drops obediently to the floor.

“Don’t rush.” Kylo stands over her with his hands on his hips. He’s in the same black scrubs, but sports a flashy pair of black and red trainers this time that catch her eye. In her imagination, they were a Black Friday gift from his perfect-looking girlfriend and she hates that her stomach drops at the thought.

But… he’s not wearing any jewelry, she observes. Not a ring on a chain around his neck like she’s seen nurses do, or one of those weird, colored silicone wedding bands.

He drops to one knee next to her and corrects her with the lightest touches to her hipbone, then her buttocks. He slows her motion to nearly half the pace she’d set.

“There,” he murmurs. “Remember-- quality, not quantity.”

Rey can’t meet his eyes and she concentrates on the ceiling tiles.

“Perfect. That’s better.”

She practically glows at this praise and she chances a grin at him. Her heart thuds when he offers a small smile back before standing and retrieving something that looks like a torture device from a metal shelf of equipment.

He stretches a length of rubber tubing between his thumbs and his grin looks downright wicked now.

“Turn over on your stomach,” he commands, and Rey’s breathing quickens as he catches her feet to cage them with the band. She rests her head on her arms and tries to ignore the heat that’s building between her thighs while he positions her.

“Now, I want you to squeeze your knees together--yes, like that,” he settles his huge hand on the small of her back. “Then, slowly butterfly your feet apart and close them again. In…. and out… In… and out. Don’t let your feet just slap back together- try to feel the resistance both directions.”

The exercise is surprisingly hard and her glutes burn almost immediately. She tries not to hold her breath, but it’s tough not to when she’s nearly nauseous with exertion. She glances back over her shoulder and catches him looking at her.

“How many of these do I have to do?” It sounds whiny but she’s tiring rapidly.

“As many as it takes for you to hate me.” Kylo’s answer is self-assured. “Probably three sets of fifteen to start. Then working up to five of twenty.”

Rey groans without meaning to, and Kylo chuckles at her distress.

“This is nothing,” he assures her. “You’ve got this!”

“You’re a monster,” she mumbles as her ass begins to quiver.

“Yes, I am.” His tone is smug and she can tell he’s enjoying this far too much.

His hand feels heavy on her low back and she concentrates on that instead of wondering if he’s actually some kind of sadist to be liking this.

* * *

 

 

Two more weeks brings marked improvement. 

Her coughing is more sporadic now, and she can endure a bout without frantically calculating the distance to the nearest bathroom just in case. Finals are just around the corner, and she huddles with Jess and her cousin, Rose, late into the night at the main library. They flirt almost as much as they study, and Rey reluctantly accepts the number of a guy about her height with the lean, sinewy physique of a climber.

“Maybe we can hang out after finals,” he suggests while he puts his number in her phone.

“Maybe,” she nods and hunches back over her laptop, chemistry diagrams swimming in front of her eyes. A month ago it hardly seemed possible she’d ever be attractive to the opposite sex again, so she takes this as progress even as she makes plans to ghost him.

“He’s cute,” Jess peers over the top of her own laptop. “You should go out with him!”

Rey shrugs. “We’ll see.”

Jess’s eyes dance as she says, “Maybe you can ask him to wear some rubber gloves and feel you up.”

“I’m never telling you anything again!” Rey blurts out at normal volume, earning them scowls from other students and a confused look from Rose, who is a freshman and new at the university.

“Rubber gloves?” Rose’s nose wrinkles and her adorable face contorts. “Is that some fetish thing?”

“Oh my God, no!” Rey insists as vehemently as whispering will allow at the same time that Jess says, “Rey has a crush on her doctor.”

Rose looks horrified and glances between them in disbelief. Rey’s sure her own face is the color of the school mascot’s fake fur and is about to explain when Rose says, her voice small, “There are male doctors for that? For your… ?” She glances at her lap. “Lady stuff?”

“He’s a physical therapist,” Rey clarifies. “I’ve been going to see him because I---I was having issues after the pneumonia. That’s all. It’s getting better.”

Rose’s face relaxes slightly but she still looks skeptical at this explanation.

Jess looks like she’s trying to hold a bird in her mouth and Rey sneers at her roommate.

“What?!”

“You have  _ such _ a crush on him. Finn thinks so too. And those exercises seem downright kinky.”

“You’re impossible!” Rey has had enough. She slams her laptop closed and begins gathering her notebooks and pens into her backpack. “ _ You _ were the one who insisted I see a doctor in the first place, remember?”

“Rey!” Jess tries weakly but there’s no stopping her. She’s out the doors, past the security gates and onto the street before Jess can even stand up.

Rey walks alone, thumbs hooked in the straps of her bag, away from campus and towards home. The brisk air feels good against her heated cheeks and she realizes she’s speed-walking. She slows her pace a touch and takes in the silence of the deserted campus, trying to calm herself. The leaves are mostly off the trees but the few that remain are lit from beneath by the streetlights and they look like a weird stage decorations, like they’re not even real.

Why did it make her so upset for Jess to point out what she had suspected for weeks? She passes the health center and refuses to look up to the floor where the PT office is. What would she even see--it’s past midnight on a weekday. There’s no way Kylo is still there at this hour.

It could never work between them, Rey tells herself as she slots her key into their unit’s door. Finn has passed out on the couch with the TV still on some shitty TLC show about an entire  family of little people and she feels a wash of betrayal just looking at him, knowing he and Jess have apparently been discussing her non-existent sex life and blatantly-obvious-to-everyone-else crush on her doctor.

Alone in her room, she retreats to her pajamas- not that different than what she was already wearing to the library in all honesty- and then her bed, pouting with the lights off. The noise of the television on in the living room annoys her further but she refuses to bother turning it off lest she wake Finn. The American television programming is mysterious to her, and his favorite station’s format seemed to revolve around brides, polygamists of various stripes, and sadly overweight people. Sometimes all in the same show.

Turning towards the wall, Rey pulled the comforter up to her earlobe. Was she being  _ that _ obvious? Just because she doesn’t hate going to her appointments doesn’t mean she’s in love with her doctor, does it? She was sick, she needed treatment, and now she’s getting better from it.

It’s only natural that she would look forward to seeing Kylo. He’s helping her get better.

Rey scrunches down further until she’s completely enveloped by her blankets.

Just because she thinks about him when she guiltily snakes her hand down the front of her pajamas, doesn’t mean she’s in love with him. Not because she’s thought about his XL-sized fingers sliding into her all slippery with lube and wondered what other parts of him might feel like there instead.

She’s already soaked when she reaches into her side table for her vibrator and tries to shut off the logical part of her brain that tells her it’s gross to be thinking of her doctor like  _ this _ , like a piece of meat and not a professional who was randomly assigned to help her. It just means she’s feeling better when she pictures him bending her over his exam table, his gloved hands tugging at her waist and the paper crackling beneath her ear as she clings to the vinyl cushion. The door’s locked so no one can come in, but she’s terrified someone will hear what they’re doing; how could they not, the way he’s talking to her, one second telling her she’s good and the next, promising to punish her? Her mind whites out then, her lower half pulsing before going limp and she rolls onto her stomach. She’s breathing hard and the buzzing of her toy seems very loud, but not as loud as the silence after she switches it off, the quiet of being hopelessly alone as she tries to sleep with the muffled sound of reality tv droning from the living room. 


	3. Chapter 3

Rey’s follow-up during the week of finals finds her saddled with yet more exercises and Kylo waits until his colleague takes a patient to the front desk before asking her how things are going with the Kegels. He’s checked in on her progress with other exercises but taken her at her word that she’s doing those and doesn’t have any questions.

“Um,” she clears her throat, not expecting such a direct question. “Good, I think?”

He nods, hands on his hips. They had been working on the bridges and she’s lying on her back on a table, squeezing a ball between her knees as she raises her bottom up towards the ceiling. She’d be the first to admit, it looks pretty sexual.

“Good,” his voice is soft. “And you’re able to reach orgasm?” He says it clinically enough but the words alone sound intimate in his deep voice. There’s something very slight in the way he pronounces the vowels that tell her he’s not from here, exactly, but she can’t determine where he calls home.

Rey’s cheeks burn and she can’t look at him.

“Uh huh!” Her voice is a squeak. “All good there!”

“Okay,” Kylo taps her hipbone to indicate she should stop. “That’s good to hear. It’s an important part of our health, and I know it can be awkward to talk about. I’m glad to hear that.”

She sits up and kicks her legs off the side of the table.

“Are you doing anything for the holidays?” She asks boldly, as though they hadn’t just been talking about her getting off.

Kylo places the ball back on the equipment shelf and shakes his head. “Sticking around here, how about you? You going back to... ?”

“England,” she supplies. “I-- no, I don’t have any family there any more.”

He looks mildly surprised and takes this in with his arms crossed. His sleeve hikes up again and she gets a better look at his tattoo. It’s a geometric design like the ones in his exam room, a hexagon surrounding a circle with triangular points facing into the center. She can’t stop staring at it and wondering what it means. He notices her looking but doesn’t remark on it.

“I’m not close with my family,” he offers. “My folks split up when I was a kid. I’m… actually not sure where my dad lives these days. We only hear from him once in awhile. Usually when he needs something.”

She studies him and wonders what his parents look like. He has an unusual face, one that she sometimes finds terribly handsome and other times, hard to look at.

Before she can react, he forges on. “I want to see you one more time before the holiday. You’re doing really well, Rey, so I think that can probably be your last visit.”

“Oh,” is all she can think to say, and damn if her insides don’t feel like Jello melting to hear this. “You think so?”

“Totally,” he toes a scuff on the foam mat. “But you have to keep doing your exercises, okay? It’s important to keep up that base level of fitness.”

“I know.” She stands now and reaches for her sweat jacket on the nearby chair.

Kylo reaches at the same time to hand it to her and their fingers touch a split second before she grasps the material and draws it to her. Their eyes meet and Rey feels a bolt of connection in her middle that she hides by fumbling with the zipper.

“I’ll miss seeing you in here,” Kylo’s eyes crinkle. “You’re a good student.”

Rey’s heart pounds at this. Surely he doesn’t say this to all his patients, right? He’s flirting. He’s definitely flirting, just like she was overstepping a second ago asking about his holiday plans.

“Well,” she hesitates, then decides to go for it. “That’s because you’re a good teacher.”

To her surprise, he looks embarrassed at this and hunches in on himself. She’s not sure how it works, but he suddenly seems like a tall and very skinny kid instead of like the oak tree he normally resembles.

“Well, be sure to put that on your patient evaluation,” he mutters, and then turns towards the door. “Come back before Christmas, alright?”

“I will,” she mumbles, and goes to reception to make the appointment.

Finals end days before her follow-up and she’s at loose ends. Campus is a immediately a ghost town, all her normal haunts empty. She exercises to exhaustion at the gym, finally able to secure a spot to lift in front of the mirror without the usual crew of meathead guys flexing and preening for one another. Finn and Jess have vacated their place to go to their families, and she’s gloriously alone in their apartment at last, the kitchen and television hers and hers alone. She watches shows on the travel channels until all hours as she dreams of vacationing in far-flung places, puts on silly voices to Finn’s chubby, sleepy cat as she bakes cookies and cakes only she will eat.

It’s two days before her appointment on the 23rd when, after having several glasses more of the boxed wine than she probably should’ve, she thinks of it.

She could email him.

At first she puts the thought out of her mind.

But the longer she sits alone on their sagging couch with Beebee curled next to her thigh, the more pathetic she feels. And besides--he said he was staying here alone over the holidays. That he wasn’t close with his family.

What could it hurt? The only thing she has to lose is… well, her pride, she supposes.

It’s tougher than she imagined to strike the right tone. She sits with her laptop open for so long the messaging system times out a couple times before typing anything. Even the opening is awkward -- should she call him Kylo like he told her, or address him as “doctor” in an email? _Dear Dr. Ren_ sounds way too formal, but _Hi Kylo_ sounds like she actually knows him.

She settles on _Hi there_ to eliminate the issue altogether.

Her heart pounds as she types out her note.

_Happy almost-Christmas! Hope you’re doing well and I’ll see you on the 23rd. Don’t worry--I’m doing my exercises! ;)_

_Also, I wondered if you might want to get coffee (or a drink) sometime? I felt a real connection to you and would like to see you outside the clinic. Since we'll both be here over the holidays, I just thought I'd ask._

_See you soon,_

_Rey_

She hits send before she can back out and slams her laptop closed, sticking it under a throw pillow where she can’t see it. Beebee raises her head and blinks at Rey sleepily, annoyed at the interruption.

“He won’t write back until tomorrow,” Rey tells her. The cat’s fur is very soft between her ears and she falls back into an imperious cat slumber that Rey envies.

Tomorrow dawns earlier than Rey anticipated. She’s still on their couch and the TV has turned to Sunday morning talk shows--her least favorite. Christmas is on a Wednesday this year, practically guaranteeing that everyone with any vacation to burn will take off the entire week around it. No wonder Kylo is stuck covering these few days leading up to the holiday.

She manages to wait until noon before logging into the chart system only to find he hasn’t responded yet.

Well… it’s still the weekend. She goes to the gym and lingers there, enjoying the silence.

By the evening she can’t stand it any longer and she checks once more.

 _You have no unread messages_.

She even refreshes the page a couple times but the words don’t change. Maybe he’s one of those weird, old-fashioned young people who hates technology and doesn’t respond to messages outside of work hours.

But then, he’s a _doctor_ for heaven’s sake, surely he’s used to strange hours and the inconvenience of human illness?

On the other hand, he’s a physical therapist. No one ever had a life-threatening physical therapy question, did they? She doesn’t. Her question isn’t even about her treatment.

She stops herself after losing an hour googling what exactly physical therapists do and what their schooling is like and their expected salaries and work environments and employment outlooks. She resists the urge to google him specifically, ashamed at herself but also half-afraid of what she might find.

Rey lays in the bathtub until she is a prune. One of Jess’s fancy bath bombs stains the water bright pink with sparkles. Beebee deigns to leave the couch to perch on the edge of the tub, even sticking a curious paw in the foamy water only to withdraw it with a disgusted shake. Rey isn’t really an animal person, but she has to admit, Beebee has grown on her. The orange-and-white calico with one damaged ear might be more Rey’s cat than Finn’s these days.

The idea that she might be a cat lady at 22 has her wiping back sudden tears and shooing Beebee angrily from the bathroom.

The morning of her appointment brings temperatures in the teens and Rey can tell, just by looking out her window into the alleyway, that it’s bitterly cold.

She spends the morning baking to warm up the place and not thinking of what will happen to all the baked items spread out on their tiny island counter. After much consideration, she makes a plate of things to take to the clinic.

Someone will eat them. If she leaves them with reception, they’ll end up in a breakroom, and everyone will say they shouldn’t but then, they will. Rey’s had an odd office job or two and that’s what always happens.

At one, she dares to peek at the messages again and tries not to worry when she finds he still hasn’t responded to her.

Why would he, when he’s going to see her in person in a few hours? That must be the reason.

She has a brief flash of him cuddling in bed with his perfect imaginary girlfriend, reading the note and laughing at her. Rey stuffs her mobile back in her pocket and resolves not to think of it or to check again.

Her appointment is at three and she arrives over a half hour early. Without any schedule to keep her comings and goings regular, she’s feeling over-eager and ends up sitting in the waiting area for a long time.

At least, it feels like a long time until the medical assistant calls her back. She wonders what the hold-up was since the gym area is deserted. She’s put on a few pounds but she knows it’s muscle she’s regained after her long convalescence.

The exam room is freezing and she’s not sure how she feels when the assistant tells her she can stay dressed for the duration of this appointment.

Something is off the moment he walks in the room. He doesn’t smile back when she gives him her flirtiest grin and it slides right off her face. Her stomach clenches nervously. He’s wearing his usual black save for a pin clipped on his breast pocket made of a green outdoor holiday lightbulb painted to look like a reindeer. It looks like something a child might have made in art class, something he grudgingly agreed to wear in the smallest concession to seasonal cheer.

“How’re you doing today?”

He doesn’t use her name or look at her as he seats himself. Her chart must be the most interesting thing he’s ever seen, from the way he’s looking at it.

“Good,” she answers. “How about you?”

“I’m fine.”

He starts in with a series of questions that are obviously mandated by the clinic, assessing her progress to date and measuring her condition in abstract, numeric terms.

How would she asses her overall physical fitness, on a scale of one-to-ten? One meaning she’s basically dead, ten being Olympic-level fitness.

“Eight?” Rey hazards a guess that she hopes sounds confident but not like she couldn’t improve a bit.

He types her response without comment.

Can she do the activities she did before her illness without tiring? Run a mile? How about three?

“I’m not really a runner,” she hedges, trying not to picture the imaginary girlfriend she’s concocted for him, the one who is most definitely a runner. He glances up at her with a raised eyebrow and she rushes to say, “I could probably get into it, though.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I--yes. I can run a mile.”

He clears his throat and continues his interrogation.

Her incontinence?

Is better, yes. No further incidents for over a week.

And how is her sexual health?

“Normal,” she coughs delicately and reddens, thinking of the email. If she weren’t so on edge she might make a joke about him finding out personally how her health was in that department. She doesn’t dare, not with the cold way he’s handling her now.

He nods curtly, clicks rapidly and pulls a pad of paper out of the breast pocket of his scrubs. She recognizes the logo as one of the pharmaceutical companies. He engages an expensive-looking ballpoint pen with a decisive swipe of his thumb on the end.

“If you don’t have any further questions, you’re good to go.” He says this without looking at her and continues writing on the prescription pad.

“Um,” she stalls, fidgeting with the paper on the exam table. “I sent you an email with some additional questions and I just wondered if you saw-”

“Rey,” he cuts her off. “Yes, I got your message. Just so you know, all the doctors you see here can also read those. It’s… they’re a part of your chart in the e-records system the clinic uses. A-- uh, a permanent part.”

Rey wants to die. Just die. She nods and can’t bring herself to say anything. A lump is welling in her throat already. He tears the slip from the pad with a flourish and creases it, his thumbnail making a small sound against the crisp paper.

“If there’s nothing else, take care of yourself, okay? Come back and see us if you need to.” Kylo stands and nods at her, then hands her the slip he was writing on.

 _See us_. Not _see me_. The distinction isn’t lost on her, even in her distress.

She waits until the door closes behind him to look at it, and she can hardly read with the tears that are welling up in her eyes already. She wants to crumple it and throw in in the trash and run out of the office. What was she thinking, sending that note? She can never come here again, not even if she’s dying, knowing everyone can see that she’s a pervert who hits on her doctors.

She squints at the paper, almost illegible through the haze of water in her eyes.

_I have a huge crush on you._

_Call me sometime: 426-236-7656._

_K._

A snort of nervous laughter wracks her torso and she wipes at her tears with the back of her hand. She has to reread his note twice to make sure she’s not hallucinating it or manifesting her inner desires or whatever it is Jess was on about after reading too many celebrity lifestyle blogs.

But no-- it’s real, and the glow she feels radiating out from her middle is most definitely real.

She practically skips out of the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my 2nd PSA for this silly story: my husband had a patient hit on him once via the electronic charting messaging system, and it really does stay with your record (at least in that software, a major one used by lots of providers in the US ). He was so mortified that the patient's other doctors could read what had been sent. 
> 
> Come say hi on WordPress, or Tumblr if you're looking for good clean nip-free fun. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW your body horror/angst fic turns into first date coffeehouse fluff... 
> 
> :-O
> 
> :-|
> 
> :-D

Rey manages to wait a single, excruciating day before texting Kylo. It’s just long enough to get over the shock of what happened, but not so long that her doubts about the wisdom of carrying on with him completely leave her either.

She tries not to imagine Jess and Finn’s faces when they hear what happened. She knows deep down that no matter how much teasing they dish out, this isn’t what they really thought would come of all this.

And if she thought writing an email expressing her feelings was tough, this text is next level.

She types and deletes a dozen variations before finally settling on the most basic.

_ Hey. This is Rey. _

She’s lying on the couch under an afghan with Beebee purring contentedly on top of her as she watches the little bubbles appear and disappear over as he drafts his reply.

Her heart races when it finally pops up and then a nervous giggle escapes her to see its simplicity.

_ Hey there yourself _ .

It’s the day before Christmas already and the whole town feels like it’s shut down. The temperatures haven’t let up and everything outside feels sharp: the frost that licks up the corner of her bedroom window, the way the ice puddles crack when stepped on, the flat gray clouds that lay over the valley.

She’s poised to reply, thinking of what to say, when another message appears.

_ Wanna get coffee tomorrow afternoon? There’s a place by me that’s still open _ .

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow is Christmas day. Rey chews her cuticle. It’s not like she had plans, did she? She’s more surprised that he doesn’t have plans.

_ ok, where? _

He sends a link to the Yelp listing for the place and she recognizes it immediately. It’s an adorable little shop in an old-fashioned corner storefront in the nicer part of town. She’s seen it on her extended outdoor runs in the spring when she ventured beyond the immediate area around campus, across the river and into the historic area. It’s the nice neighborhood, one where non-students live.

_ Meet you there at 2? _

She suggests it first but her heart is galloping now. Beebee quits purring to stretch out a paw, kneading Rey’s collarbone ever so slightly with her claws.

“Two is a good time,” Rey tells her. “In case he has brunch plans but well before dinner. Just in case it’s weird. No obligation.”

Beebee gazes unblinkingly back before her third eyelid begins to slowly hood her amber eye.

“You’re so gross,” Rey whispers, fascinated by this quirk of cat anatomy.

_ See you there _ .

Rey hides her smile under the edge of the blanket.

_ And do your exercises _ , a final text commands. A smiley pops up a second later to soften the bossiness but Rey’s gut is already twisting with anticipation.

She dashes off a cheeky reply before she can chicken out.

_ I think of you every time I do _ .

The bubbles appear a half dozen times or more before he finally sends back a emoji that looks like it’s blushing.

Rey stares at it for a long time before dropping her head back on the arm of the couch and letting out a groan of frustration. Two pm tomorrow is an eternity away.

 

* * *

She sits in Finn’s car down the block from the coffeeshop for a long time observing the street. Finn had left it behind and she is eternally grateful she’s not at the mercy of the holiday bus schedule for this adventure. The thought of waiting in the cold for the lone bus route that makes its way through this neighborhood crushed her, especially on the return trip if this doesn’t go well. The shop stands at an intersection where the paving is partly old brick instead of asphalt in a part of town where the streets are considerably narrower and more winding than the section of the city by the university. The river that cuts through the city marks the area between the historic district, built along the edge of the rolling hills that ring the city, and a fort perches atop one nearby peak.

Really, she’s not quite sure what to expect. What would  _ going well _ even entail? She folds the visor down to check her make-up for smudges once more and uses the tip of her pinky to scrub away some errant mascara that found its way onto her eyelid. Getting ready for this date turned into a two-hour affair; nothing she put on seemed right and the pile of discarded outfits grew on the foot of her bed as Beebee watched with measured feline disdain.

Just then, a flash of movement outside the car catches her eye and she peeks beneath the visor to catch Kylo loping across the street to the shop. Her hand flies to the door handle but a quick check of her watch tells her he’s early and she hangs back in the car for a few minutes more. She peers into her bag and her heart feels like it’s trying to escape her chest when she tucks the condoms she brought  _ just in case _ into the side pocket even more firmly. The frigid air outside cools her cheeks rapidly and she hopes it looks like she’s just flushed from the weather.

He’s already seated inside at a table near a window away from the door when she arrives, but they have their pick of the seats. The place is predictably deserted save for a lone barista with a lip piercing who doesn’t even look up from his phone when she enters. A handwritten sign taped to the edge of the counter reads:

_ We will be closing at 3 PM for Christmas. We’re not sorry for the inconvenience. _

_ Love, _

_ Not the Management _ .

Kylo is reading some kind of magazine and he half stands when she nears the table as if to hug her but then sits again before she can raise her arms.

“Hey,” she tries. “Merry Christmas?”

“Hi,” he replies, smoothing the spine of the magazine flat with his enormous palm and she sees that it’s some kind of professional journal, all dense text and diagrams. “Merry Christmas yourself.”

He’s not wearing scrubs for once and Rey can’t deny that her heart skips a little to see how his jeans cling to his thighs. He’s got on at least two layers up top, a flannel and a half-zip sweater that looks cozy but reads a bit... mature in style. Rey clears her throat to keep from giggling at what Finn would no doubt say if he were here:  _ hello, Daddy _ .

She slides into the seat and shucks her heavy coat. An awkward beat passes before they both try to speak at once.

“You come here often?”

“You found the place okay?”

They chuckle and both try to answer before he insists she go first.

“Yes, I did,” she assures him with a shake of her phone, still open to her map app. She drops it into her bag. “And you?”

“I live just down the street,” he explains. “Thanks for coming to my ‘hood.”

Rey just nods. “Have you lived here a long time, or…?”

Kylo squirms in his chair at this and for a second, she gets the same feeling as when she flirted with him at the office. Like she is suddenly the much older party and he, a teenager.

“No, I only moved here last year,” he replies, not looking at her. “Can I get you a drink?” He glances over his shoulder at the counter. The barista doesn’t move aside from the rapid flicking of his thumb over his phone’s screen.

“If we’re not interrupting something,” Rey says softly. “I would drink a latte. But no flavoring or funny business.”

Kylo looks back at her and he’s clearly amused.

“Is sugar ‘funny business’? Asking for a friend.”

“Yes,” Rey deadpans before she cracks a smile.

The barista comps them the drinks and it’s clear he knows Kylo by sight despite the pained look that he wears through the entire transaction. Her heart warms when Kylo stuffs a ten in the empty tip jar, more than the two drinks would’ve cost together and the kid mumbles thanks.

Kylo doesn’t sit as he delivers her latte.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He proposes this like they’d been lingering for awhile. “I think they want to close early. There’s a trail along the river if you want to walk.”

Rey glances at the sign hanging from the countertop and smiles. “You think…?”

Kylo merely rolls his eyes and waits until they’re safely outside before saying, “He put that sign out after I came in.”

“That’s bold,” Rey judges, but she understands the sentiment. “I’m surprised they’re open at all today.”

They walk down the street clutching their cups. They’re partway down the block when Kylo slows a touch and asks, “Actually… do you mind if I bring my dog? He’s home alone and he loves to destroy things. He’s kind of the worst.”

“Of course not,” Rey shakes her head. “I love dogs!”

They make a u-turn and head down a cul-de-sac that is literally across from the shop, an adorable little enclave of historic rowhouses with some very nice cars parked along the street. Maybe it’s just people visiting for the holidays but Rey spies mostly foreign makes and one so fancy she’s not able to recognize it at all.

Number 47 sits on the left side of the street and a decidedly unpretentious small SUV sits in his driveway. It’s at least ten years old with rust licking up the quarter panels. A few stickers from places Rey recognizes to be ski mountains decorate the back window and she spies a rack on the roof to match.

“Brace yourself,” Kylo warns as he unlocks the front door. Rey can hear the animal inside and from the timbre of its bark, she expects at least a medium-sized dog, a shaggy rescue type with a lopsided ear or some other endearing lumpiness.

To her surprise, a sleek black French bulldog with bugging eyes and ears the size of wings squeezes out the cracked door and leaps repeatedly at her knees.

“Vader, down!” Kylo scolds the dog but Vader’s excitement cannot be repressed. Rey drops to one knee and succumbs to the tornado of wriggling dog. She laughs as his tongue swipes her cheek and then her teeth accidentally.

“Sorry, Jesus!” Kylo grabs the leash from just inside and shuts the door before Rey can get a look inside his place. “He’s a terror.”

Rey can’t believe this bundle of overjoyed yips crossed with nasal snorts is exactly a  _ terror _ so she says, “He has a lot of energy!”

Kylo makes a sound in the back of his throat that Rey can’t interpret as pure agreement or pure disgust as he reaches in and hooks Vader’s collar. Instantly the dog changes course, darting out to the extent allowed by his leash and even straining against it to the point of making gasping sounds.

“You’d think we didn’t already walk two miles this morning.” Kylo’s tone is gruff as they set off back down the street, but Rey detects a hint of affection for the creature. “The neighbors probably think I neglect him.”

Rey hasn’t seen a single other person since they left the coffee shop who would judge them, so she shrugs noncommittally.

“I’m sure you’re a good dog-dad,” she offers.

“I’m a single dog-dad,” Kylo shoots back and she can detect a caustic note in his retort.

Rey stuffs her free hand in her pocket and ignores it. She’s got mittens on but they’re still cold to the point of her fingertips being slightly numb and she wonders how Kylo is still warm without any hat or gloves on.

They walk down the main thoroughfare once more and reach a turnoff down a dirt path in short order. Vader obviously knows the way and is practically hovering with excitement to be going to the park. The path widens out to a large grassy area alongside the river and Kylo unclips Vader’s leash, leaving him to race after a flock of birds that rest along the bank. They swirl into the air in a startled bunch before their instinct takes over and they float just above the dog’s jumping range, taunting him by swooping down before winging aloft again, maddeningly just out of reach.

They stroll along the edge of the park in silence before Rey finally gets up her nerve to ask him something. Her initial, first-date nervousness is now replaced by a hum of anticipation since it seems to be going… well, at least not actively badly. The ease of their text-based flirtation has deserted her, but she knows she wouldn't be here if he hadn’t reciprocated her advances.  

“You said you moved here recently?”

Kylo takes a measured sip of his drink before answering. “Yeah, I’ve been here about a year now.”

He doesn’t elaborate and she feels the need to fill in the gap. “I’ve only been here two--I transferred in with a few years of university credits from England.”

“Do you like it here?”

Rey takes her own time sipping at her latte before answering. It had felt lonely at first until she had met Finn and then Jess, but now that they’re roommates she couldn’t imagine feeling at home anywhere else.

“It’s different,” she begins as Vader trots up to them, triumphant at the stick he’s brought to Kylo. His owner wrestles it from his teeth and slings it out ahead of them so he can race after it, his round haunches straining as he digs into the frozen ground.

“I bet,” Kylo concedes easily. “It’s always hard when you come to a new place.”

The question is begging to be asked, but she doesn’t touch it, not yet. Instead she tries to be playful.

“Did I get you in trouble at work? With that note?”

Kylo’s laugh is musical. “No,” he dismisses her concern quickly. “I would only be in trouble if they knew I wrote back. It’s… not the first time someone’s sent an inappropriate note.”

Rey raises an eyebrow and takes a deep draught of her drink before she turns to face him, walking backwards so she can see his reaction.

“Yeah? Is it the first time you wrote back?”

Kylo’s stride falters slightly at her question but he looks her in the eye when he answers.

“Yes-- is that the first time you’ve flirted with your doctor via email?”

Now it’s her turn to blush. “I’ve never done it before, I swear!”

“Good,” he nods. “Don’t make it a habit.”

She falls back beside him and they walk a distance in silence punctuated only by Vader’s looping trips. The dog is slowing with each repetition until he finally stands panting at Kylo’s side just watching the stick as it hurtles towards the river bank.

Kylo slows too and drops down to Vader’s height. Placing his paper cup on the frosted grass, he uses both hands to rough up the dog’s head and Rey’s heart pitter-patters in a way she can’t ever remember it doing. Something about seeing his affection for the animal causes her to melt and she drains her own drink, trying not to stare at them openly. Kylo’s massive, ungloved hands dwarf Vader’s ears and neck and Kylo murmurs something only the dog can understand. She may as well not be standing there and feels like she’s intruding on some private male ritual.

“We should probably start back,” Kylo says at last. “He’s tired and despite what it looks like, he’s heavy to carry.”

“You carry him?!” Rey’s laugher echoes in the bare trees around them.

Kylo looks sheepish before shrugging. “I can’t leave him out here. He just sits down and refuses to walk any further.”

One look at Vader’s heaving sides and lolling tongue and she knows it’s the truth. This dog seems like a master manipulator.They slow their pace on the return trip and now Rey wonders if this is the end of their date. They’ve gotten their coffee, the dog has been walked, and the light is beginning to take on the late-afternoon quality of winter dusk that signals early evening. If something is going to happen, it will happen soon.

They’re almost back at the junction of his street when Kylo suddenly says, “I don’t want to keep you if you have plan-”

“I don’t have plans,” Rey interrupts him before he can finish.

A grin slowly creases his cheeks and Rey’s heart stutters. She hopes it’s not too forward of her but she can’t bear the thought of being alone the rest of the holiday, not after the gooey way her insides have been feeling for the last hour.

“Okay,” he agrees readily. “Have you ever seen National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation?”

“No, what is that?”

Kylo looks gutted. “What  _ is _ that!? It’s only the greatest American Christmas film of the 20th century, and I’m happy to be your cultural envoy since your roommates are obviously not up to the task.”

And that is how she comes to be seated on her doctor’s couch on Christmas Day with a bowl of popcorn between them, the fireplace on, and Vader snuggled beside Kylo’s thigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this continuation, and I'm working on the rest! HMU on Tumblr at theafterglow-writes.


	5. Chapter 5

His house is nice inside, all sleek chrome appliances, stone countertops in the kitchen and refurbished wood floors in the hallway. The building is narrow owing to its age but someone clearly did a loving job of updating it to be modern. The living room looks out onto a small but picturesque stand of trees beyond the yard and Rey spies a black-and-red bird feeder strung up in the branches. A cardinal alights and pecks hungrily before something startles it and it's gone in an instant.

He’s about to press play when he hesitates and his confession tumbles out of him in a rush.

“So, uh… I don’t really do this much? Or I haven’t, y’know, done this much recently? I got divorced last year and never really dated a lot before my ex, so… I hope this isn’t weird for you. I don’t know what the kids do these days.”

Rey’s hand is frozen above the popcorn bowl and suddenly, things make more sense to her.  

“Well,” she replies gently, “We don’t usually call ourselves ‘the kids.’”

His laugh breaks the tension and he replies, “Yeah, okay-- that sounded like a fucking old person thing to say, didn’t it?!”

“It did,” Rey giggles. “And I don’t do this much either. At least, not recently.”

Kylo relaxes back against the cushions with a nod and starts the film.

The story is by turns absurdist and sentimental, most certainly dated at points, but by the time Clark Griswold finds himself accidentally locked in a freezing attic watching home movies wearing a turban and a bathrobe, Rey is fully invested. She sneaks glances at Kylo at points to find he's so engrossed that he's mouthing the dialogue. Recalling Kylo's comment about his absent father has her wondering if he sees something in this bumbling but well-meaning film father.

As they reach for the last few pieces scattered in the unpopped kernels and salt, their fingers brush in the bowl. His fingers are very warm and Rey doesn't look at him as he gives hers a light squeeze. He shifts beside her and she can see in her peripheral vision that he's studying her. He lets her pull away and she shoves the last handful of popcorn in her mouth, chewing slowly while taking deep breaths to calm her beating heart.

It's the same jolt she felt as when they touched at the clinic, that the electric excitement of unexpected contact.

They stare at the screen again but Rey is pretty sure neither of them is really watching any longer. Her chest is still fluttering and despite her best efforts to concentrate on the conclusion of the Griswold family Christmas, she can’t ignore how hyper-aware she is of him next to her. Hopefully the dim light of the living room hides how she’s blushing because God help her, he even _smells_ good, like he doesn’t use normal laundry detergent but rather something that smells a bit like pine with a note of cinnamon? She wonders if he ate any of the baked goods she brought to his office. There’s not a tree anywhere that she can see, so the smell is definitely coming from him and not some holiday decorations.

He lets the credits play until they’ve reached the song attributions before pausing it. Vader lifts his head at the motion and the jingle of his tags is the only sound.

“Well?” Kylo finally asks. “You feel complete now, right?”

“I didn’t even know what I was missing,” Rey plays along. “How have I lived until now?”

“I don’t know!” Kylo’s feigned distress at her ignorance is playful.

A beat passes between them while he rearranges Vader so he can turn to face her fully with his arm slung over the back of the couch.

Rey’s heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of her chest when she sees his eyes drop to her lips before he makes eye contact again.

“Did you… get everything you want for Christmas?”

She bites her lip as she looks at his mouth. It’s hardly the feature of his she’s thought most about, but gazing at him now, she’s not sure why.   

“Not yet,” she says and it sounds like her voice is coming from someone else’s body. She leans towards him, over the popcorn bowl, her face turned up expectantly. “Maybe Santa got delayed.”

Kylo’s eyes dip to her mouth again and he leans in too.

“He’s just running a little late,” he murmurs, so close his lips are brushing hers and then, they’re kissing.

Not just a little peck. It’s the kind of kiss she’s thought about from him: a sloppy, greedy, sucking kind of kiss that seems to go on for hours. Kylo kisses her like he’s been stuck in a freezing attic himself and is trying to thaw out.  

He breaks away first, panting, and mutters a vulgarity under his breath. He looks almost embarrassed before she cups her hand to his cheek to pull him back. She moves the popcorn bowl to the ottoman to climb astride his lap a minute later, feeling drunk with her boldness.   

Once they stop fumbling and get over the nerves that has each of them asking if this is okay, does that feel alright, it’s even better than the sex she’s been imagining. Way better. For a giant of a man, Kylo is surprisingly gentle and deliberate, his hands dwarfing her as he explores her body. Rey gets a case of giggles that causes him to hesitate, looking at her like he’s done something wrong, but she pulls him down to her and kisses it away.    

And that is how Rey comes to be naked in her doctor’s bed on Christmas Day, their clothes strewn in a trail up his staircase, his dog snoring on the rug, and a tiny black tinsel tree on his dresser lighting the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back for more! I'm @theafterglow-writes on Tumblr. HMU!


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